Micks POV:

Oh God, why the hell did I drink so much? My head was pounding and for some reason the room was spinning. Gravity seemed to have double overnight. Logic said hangover; gut feeling said bad luck. Logic was correct. The normal routine of getting dressed and forcing down a cup of rancid coffee took a lot longer than it usually would. Partly because I knew that I had Coop, his sticks and Proph to deal with at the office. Gina would hopefully be more sympathetic.

Gratefully, when I got down to the gym floor I found that Coop was in no more of a mood to go a round than I was. Paperwork had started to pile up, unfortunately it wasn't going anywhere. Apparently there was no better time than the present. Prophet was about as enthusiastic as I was to the date with desk work.

"Is Gina in yet?" Coop called from his office door way.

"No, I haven't seen her since last night." I answered, glancing at my watch.

Gina LaSalle was far too critical of herself, too formal and bloody attractive despite how much she tried to deny it. One thing she certainly wasn't, was irresponsible. I'd never known her to be late or AWOL, that just wasn't Gina. When Prophet's quick shake of the head deepened Coop's frown. Now I knew something was wrong.

"What's up Coop?"

"Nothing, I hope." He replied pulling out his phone and punched in a number.

Holding it to his ear he waited for an eternity. Coop didn't say anything as he brought it down, redialling this time he drew breath to speak.

"Garcia, I've got a favour to ask. Can you track Gina's cell for me and call me when you find her?... "Thanks, I owe you one."

Replacing the cell phone into his pocket, larger threads of worry started to spin in my mind. Penelope Garcia is the best computer analyst the FBI had, she could find a microscopic needle in the digital haystack of cyberspace with ease. So finding Gina wouldn't be an issue, but why was there a need to find her?

"Leave your paperwork; Prophet pull up her call logs I want to know who she's been talking to, Mick, you and I are going round to her apartment." Cooper ordered, very much taciturn. We nodded our acceptance, grabbing my coat and bag I followed Coop out into the unit's car.

Travelling in silence neither of us wanted to voice our concerns. The presence of the silver sedan was reassuring. Parked outside the apartment building, the normalcy surrounding the scene let me breathe just a little easier. Together, both of us unconsciously checked our side arms weren't going to catch on anything if should the need arise before heading up to her flat.

272, the familiar door was perfect; no scratches, dents or splinters. There wasn't a forced entry. Knocking I hoped like crazy that me and Coop were going to be proved wrong. That our little hunch was off and Gina would open that damn door to laugh at our concern. The seconds ticked on, nothing, no answer. Everything was silent. Glancing nervously at Coop I took out the set from my back pocket. He nodded. Delicately playing with the tumblers until I found the right positions didn't take as long as it felt.

Walking into her living room was like walking back into a war zone. Physically it was in the same shape as the door, and that's what scared me. Nothing was out of place. The high gloss wooden floor had no marks, the sofa spotless, and the slight build up of dust from the week long neglect on the shelves held an even coating. It still felt off. We were missing something, but what.

People wouldn't have come in without a single trace, especially when the person lived in that space. The picture forming in my mind was a nightmare, the facts we had painted none other gentler version. She had come home safely, but never made it inside. Uncharacteristically failing to show for work and not answering her phone meant whatever did happen was outside of her control. Not good.

Gina's POV: Nine hours earlier;

There are few times I will admit to being scared, now was one of them. My sidearm I'd left rather carelessly in the car as I never took it into the pub when we had a session. Without it, I was feeling more than a little intimidated by Carson. He was easily taller, broader and stronger than me. In a physical confrontation I would come off second best, unless I got in a miracle hit. It left me with the only option of playing along.

His hands came up and rested on my shoulders. The faint smell of alcohol lingered on him, it made me wish more than anything that I'd taken up Prophet's offer. I couldn't tell what he was going to do next; fear was messing up my ability to read him. Why did I have to be so flipping useless!

"Maliki? We do need to talk, but let's make it tomorrow." I said, gently pushing his arms off. I thought of continuing as I would have to Mick, ' When you're sober, and I have my gun.' Instead I edged backwards saying, "You need to think about what you're doing."

"No, don't you dare profile me!" He growled quietly, pulling out his service weapon. "I'm not a psychopathic killer that you catch every other day, Gina. I'm going to prove it to you."

I automatically spread my hands in surrender; getting shot wasn't exactly on my wish-list. Okay, change of plan. No more profiling him aloud.

"Give me your phone," Maliki ordered.

Carson's left hand was held out expectantly with the other still holding the gun. Damn, I lowered one hand into my back pocket and forfeited it over. That was another life line gone. I watched as he dismantled the back, removing the battery and SIM card before giving the shell back.

"Kneel; it'll make it easier on you."

I did as asked, Carson was making no sense. How was pointing a gun at me going to change my view of him?

"I'm sorry, this is the only way." He whispered from behind me.

AN; Hoped you liked it, next chapter should be edited and posted soon. Thanks to EVERYONE who did comment or followed this story